Missing Link
by Charli Fox
Summary: Nightshift and dayshift are forced to worked together when Sara is kidnapped from a crime scene where another CSI was found dead. The problem is, they only have six days to find her. GS.
1. Prologue

**Missing Link**

Prologue

* * *

_The lamps inside a cosy little restaurant not far from Santa Monica Pier cast a dim amber glow. The walls were cream with a red border, the carpet a crimson and black combo. It created a warm and romantic atmosphere when it was combined with the piano music. A waitress leant on the bar and watched a couple that were seated by the balcony, a dreamy expression on her face. "They're so cute together. Don't you think?" Her question was posed at the tall, dark and blue-eyed man that was pouring a middle aged customer yet another drink._

_He shrugged as his gaze drifted over to the couple that his friend was speaking about. "Woman doesn't seem particularly into him, looks like she wants to leave," he observed. The waitress sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. She was a romantic at heart and wanted everyone to get along. _

_The couple stood; the man taking hold of his companions elbow as though he were escorting her off private property. "I don't like the way those people are staring at us," he sounded jittery. "It'll be better at home sweetheart."  
_

_His companion, Patricia Holmes, suppressed a shudder and instead smiled weakly at him. "That sounds nice dear." She wished she could get away but it was too dangerous. His behaviour had been erratic of late and could quite easily snap at any time. The food at the restaurant had been delicious and to outside eyes the company she kept appeared charming, though he was quite the opposite. It was their first night out… a date. Most couples who went out for the first time were unsure of what would happen after the meal but Miss. Holmes knew exactly what to expect. Once they got back home; the man she was with was going to kill her._

_

* * *

_

_Patricia set down her bag on the table in the living room, but in her anxious state didn't notice as it missed and tumbled to the floor. He had driven her here, back to her own house. It was the same place that he had taken her from a week earlier. She knew it was no use begging for her life because he wouldn't turn back now. And besides, Pat didn't beg for anybody. The thirty eight year old woman heard footsteps behind her, a very faint sound on the carpet. The sound of the safety being taken off a gun came next, closely accompanied by the feel of cold metal being pressed against her temple. "Don't do this!" That was a voice Patricia hadn't heard before. It was deep like a man but had an almost feminine tone. And then the footsteps were moving away. _

_Was he playing with her? Was he having second thoughts after all? Apparently not was Pat's last thought as she heard the gun being cocked from by the front door._

* * *

The news broadcaster straightened her coat and looked toward the cameraman in front of her with a smile. "How do I look?" she asked nervously. When he gave her two thumbs up to accompany his beaming smile Natalia Wilmslow visibly relaxed. She flicked her dark hair back and then stared into the camera as they were about to go on air. Seconds later she began to read the report set out before her, Natalia's tone was noticeably grim. "One week ago a Las Vegas Crime Scene Investigator was reported missing from her home. And today Lucy Turner's body was found in her own living room. There are no clues as to who the killer may be but the question on everyone's mind is: Will he strike again? Twenty eight year old Lucy Turner was…" 

Nick Stokes switched off the television and threw the remote control onto the nearby chair. "Ecklie's gonna want this case now; Lucy was dayshift. She was getting ready to take off on holiday when she disappeared." There may have been rivalry between the two shifts but Nick sure as hell wasn't going to kick up a huge fuss if Ecklie tried to take over the case. They knew what it was like to lose one of their own after all.

His friend, Warrick Brown nodded. "They gotta be feeling like crap right now, but dayshift might not be able to have a look in, they're too close. I doubt that'll stop them from trying though. Media is going to be all over this." He looked up at the blank screen. "Guys know forensics too, we may never catch him," It was said with a grimace, but he was only voicing what the others were thinking.

"Hey never say never. He'll make a mistake at some point and when he does we're going to be there to catch him," Nick replied with a positive attitude.

The door swung open and Grissom walked in, cup of coffee in one hand and papers in another. "Now that's what I like to hear," he quipped, having heard Nicks comment. He looked from one CSI to the other. "This case won't solve itself -- lets get moving," he urged before turning back to the door.

Nick and Warrick glanced at each other, eyebrows raised. "You don't think Ecklie'll want this?" Warrick asked.

"I have no doubt. But until someone comes and tells me otherwise, this is still our case now let's go. With the media traipsing all over the place and the police poking around, the evidence won't last long." Grissom was already backing into the corridor as he answered.

Nick coughed to get the older mans attention again. "But there's not been any evidence **to** disturb."

The Entomologist turned around, to cast a slightly reproving look at the Texan. "And to quote you, no more than three minutes ago, 'never say never. He'll make a mistake at some point and when he does we are going to be there to catch him'." He smirked before walking away. The two remaining CSI's jumped up from their chairs and quickly headed after him.

* * *

When Sara had left her apartment ten minutes prior to hearing the report on the radio, she had been silently fuming. And now, as she parked outside the home of Lucy Turner, her mood was no better. It wasn't the case that had gotten her riled up, though that hadn't exactly helped; it was Catherine. Or rather Catherine and Grissom combined. She had accidentally overheard other woman telling their friend and supervisor to back off, that it was dangerous getting involved in a relationship with someone he worked with i.e. Sara. She supposed Catherine thought she was being helpful, but it irked her that the older woman was interfering. 

Catherine had stated that the two of them getting involved might 'hurt their working relationship if things got messy'. Sara laughed out loud in the car; she and Griss were barely talking now so it wouldn't exactly change anything later on if they became involved and then split or had an argument. And besides, they were both professionals, they knew better than to let personal problems get in the way of work.

Unfortunately she and Catherine had been working a case together and so had to speak to each other eventually. Sara kept any questions and answers short. She didn't want to say anything that could cause them to get into an argument during work -- and there were a lot of things that Sara had wanted to get off her chest. Unfortunately it appeared as though as a 'quiet day at the office' wasn't what the Fates had in mind. Tempers were already frayed due to the case; which was due to go to court the next day, and so when they had started arguing the two women had not held back. They had been in the garage and so luckily only a couple of people that were passing back caught a glimpse of them shouting.

It was completely unprofessional of the both of them, and Sara had ended the tirade by left the building. Catherine had remained to finish her work. Both had started to calm down and realise how stupid they had both been - arguing at work, during a case - and both hated the fact that they must have looked like squabbling teenagers in high school. And so Catherine, at the end of shift, had drove over to Sara's apartment to try and smooth things over with the younger woman. They had talked, to start with, both trying to make the other see the errors in their judgment. Both were headstrong, and believed they were correct. Agreeing on the subject at hand just wasn't meant to be. Catherine had left before they could begin another shouting match and five minutes later Sara had left, on the way back to the Lab with the intent of speaking to Grissom.

Sara had heard the latest update on the Turner case via the radio; a couple of minute after receiving a call that all of the nightshift was needed. Sara was the first to arrive at the crime scene, as she had been in the neighborhood and by the time she had got there the area had been cleared but for a few nosy neighbors. She nodded and smiled at the cop that was there; he was new and looked quite queasy. M_ust've seen the body _the CSI guessed.

"Its all clear," he informed, his was a little voice shaky. "How do you do that?" the cop waved his hand in the direction of the house, where the body was.

Sara Sidle paused in mid step. "Somebody has to. How can you kill somebody?" she indicated his gun. He got her point; they all had a job to do, their own way of catching the bad guys.

The house was small; a freshly cut lawn was situated out front with daffodils on the left along the driveway. Directly across from the door was a flight of stairs and to the left a doorway into the living room where the body was. Pictures hung on the wall: Of an elderly man and woman. _Probably grandparents _and a dog with a ball in its mouth as it ran across a park. At the back of the living room there was a door that was slightly ajar, which led to the back garden. The sound of a car on the front stole her attention and she look through the main window to see whom it was.

The door to the car slammed to a close and Catherine walked purposefully up the drive. "He,y" she greeted the cop with a friendly smile as he met her. She flashed her badge and he waved her though.

"Your friend is inside. She got here a couple of minutes ago."

At the 'friend' part Cath was going to ask whom, but t the 'she' part, the blonde had a pretty good idea. She pushed open the front door and peered inside, wondering what kind of reception she would receive from the other CSI. "Sara?" There was no reply. "Hello…" Not hearing anything downstairs she changed course to go upstairs. Four minutes later she was back in the living room; her eyes fell upon the closed door that led into the garden. There was a necklace on the floor, in the corner, and barely noticeable as it blended into the carpet. It was identical to the one she had seen Sara wearing not long ago, but Catherine didn't start jumping to conclusions, the other woman could have been processing the scene and not noticed that the necklace had fallen off.

She looked around the room for a moment before turning to look at the body. "What have we here?" Cath spoke in the empty room. She knelt down beside Lucy, and a note fluttered from her chest and onto the floor as a breeze from outside picked it up.

"Hey Cath, how'd you get here before us?" Nick queried as he stepped inside. The rest of the team entered the house shortly after.

She looked up momentarily, a concerned look in her eyes. "Uh…I was in the area. Guys, Sara's gone…"

"What do you mean Sara's gone?" Grissom asked, and did a very good impression of a man trying to show indifference. He crouched down beside his friend. "Where is she?"

Catherine passed him the note. As he read through the scrawled and looped writing his brow furrowed and his previous expression crumbled, to be replaced by grave worry.

_I have her and I won't let her go. Your friend's arrival was unexpected but she is perfect. I will love her like my own._

Grissom quelled the immediate feeling of nausea. "He has her," he murmured dully. It had to be the killer.

Catherine took the note from him. It would be the first thing to be dusted for prints; whoever this guy was, he had been in a hurry. Maybe he had finally made that one mistake that would lead the team to him. "We have a new crime scene."

He had kidnapped Sara from under their noses. Grissom nodded solemnly. "And a new crime."

* * *


	2. Chapter One

**Missing Link**

Chapter One

* * *

As Grissom, Nick and Warrick had entered the recently deceased Lucy Turners home, the door had slowly and noiselessly closed behind them. Now, however, it swung wide open and loudly connected to the painted wall as a concerned and irate Grissom strode out and along the path to where the cop was leaning against his car. He was glancing up and down the road, and taking in the anxious faces of the people that had once again gathered around. In his hand he held a blue cup of some steaming beverage. A _neighbor must've brought it out _Grissom absently thought.

As the police officer saw him he set the cup carefully on the roof of the black and white squad car. "Anything I can help you with?" He turned back to the road as he heard the sound of a car coming to a stop across the street; after identifying the driver as Detective Jim Brass he returned his green eyed gaze back to the nightshift supervisor. "Is there a problem?"

Gil didn't speak for a couple of minutes; he knew it wouldn't do any good to start shouting. And it especially wouldn't look professional do the curious onlookers. "I thought you said this house was clear," he kicked him self as soon as he had spoke, knowing belatedly the statement sound accusatory – like the officer had lied.

It was apparent that the younger man saw it that way, too. His eyes hardened and jaw clenched before he calmly replied. "I **did**, I checked twice just in case…I know how to do my job Dr Grissom," He uneasily ran his right hand through his curling black hair. He didn't want to look bad, especially as Brass had just arrived.

"I don't doubt that you do. But this time you didn't do it properly." Grissom wished it was one of the others doing the talking at that present time; he knew this was not going well. But increasing worry made him curt. In order for the officer to see where he was coming from Griss knew he would have to let him know what had happened. "You allowed one of my CSIs inside that house and now she is missing." As he said this out loud the Entomologists tone hardened. "You let her in there! And now she has been kidnapped -- just like Lucy Turner one week ago," His voice rose and Brass, who had exited his car and was half way across the road, still heard him.

The detectives pace quickened and before the officer could reply just as angrily, Brass intervened. He spoke in hushed tones, well aware of the prying eyes and listening ears around the three of them. "How about we take this inside, huh?" It was a rhetorical question. They **would** go inside and speak or they would leave the crime scene and talk back at the Lab. Seeing reason, the other two men nodded and with hostility as their close companion, re-entered the Turner home. Once inside Brass turned to the officer. "Are you certain there was nobody in here?" The detective knew he would have but it was for Grissom's benefit that he asked anyway.

Believing Detective Brass doubted his ability to check a crime scene the officer replied indignantly. "As I told Dr Grissom, I know how to do my job. The house was empty, there were no intruders…I don't know what else to tell you," he tried hard to keep his voice neutral but it was hard for him when it seemed as though nobody in the house trusted him.

Brass nodded at him. "Its okay, we just have to make sure," he looked at the younger man reassuringly.

"Can you go outside and start asking questions? I want to know if anybody saw anything," Grissom interrupted the two. The sooner everyone got down to business the quicker they could find Sara.

The officer sighed. "I already did that," he responded. He admired and respected Grissom; he had done a lot of work to bring down the scum of Las Vegas; all his team had. But it was hard to like a man that was treating him as though he were a kid; he tried not to hold it against the man. After all he was obviously worried about Sara Sidle, his missing CSI.

Gil stepped past the officer and opened the front door. "Well that was before Sara was taken from this house, now I want you to ask if there are any witnesses to **this** crime. If the neighbors say they didn't see anything I want you to ask them again, and again, and again until they give you something," he wasn't aware that he was shouting until he felt a hand on his shoulder, effectively halting his rant. Brass indicated to the cop that he should start canvassing the crowd.

Upon seeing the three men entering the house, the rest of the team had stopped in their work of processing the scene to watch the disagreement, wondering if they should jump in and stop things before it got ugly. "Arguing with my people isn't going to bring her back any faster," the Detective chided gently. He straightened a crease in his charcoal black coat before looking around the room and delivering his news. "I came down here to let you know that Conrad Ecklie is on his way with the rest of dayshift, thought I'd give you a heads up. But until then tell me everything, how did this happen?"

As Catherine was the next one on the scene after Sara had arrived, she quickly filled Brass in on the events up until his arrival. "How did you both get here so fast?" he queried.

Catherine balanced the camera on her knee after taking the last photograph of the body, and looked up to regard the Detective. She shifted uncomfortably and not just because the position she was crouching in was making her legs ache. If they hadn't been arguing at the Lab, Sara wouldn't have stormed off home, she wouldn't have followed the brunette to her apartment and they wouldn't have begun to shout again. Both would still have been at the Lab when the call came through, and Sara wouldn't have arrived at the scene before anybody else. "We were both at her place, I left…" she looked at her watch. "Thirty minutes ago and I guess Sara did the same not too long after. She must've gotten the call en route to the Lab." Catherine was definitely feeling guilty right about now.

Before anyone could respond the door opened, the creaking alerting them to the presence of somebody new. "Its so good of you to start our work for us but now you can get the hell away from my crime scene, Gil," Ecklie's sarcastic voice filled the room and everybody stopped their work. The dayshift supervisor paused aside to let his remaining team of three into the room.

"This isn't just your crime scene anymore Conrad," tensions were high and Grissom's temper already frayed without Ecklie adding to the problems. Quite surprisingly, the Entomologist did keep his cool with the other man, in spite of the circumstances.

Ecklie shook his head in obvious disagreement; his folded his arms in front of him, wrinkling the sleeves of his grey jacket. "Lucy was one of mine, that makes it my crime scene and I don't give a shit that we're too close to this." He turned dismissively away from his competitor to issue orders to his team.

"Well then that's going to be a problem for all of us because two crimes have been committed here." Ecklie looked back at Grissom, his eyebrow rose and his gaze was questioning. At the dayshift supervisor's silence, Grissom took it as a sign that he should continue. "Around fifteen minutes ago Sara was kidnapped." A knife twisted his gut.

Every time he said those words it sounded more and more unbelievable, like it was some kind of bad dream. No, not a dream; a nightmare. "She was processing the scene when, at the moment we're assuming, the killer returned and took her. He left a note…this is our crime scene." He was adamant in pointing out that fact. It wasn't that he thought Ecklie was inept at taking control of the scene, he just knew his team were better – he trusted them to do the job and right now there was no place for errors, in collecting and sifting through the evidence – or in judgement.

Jim stood in between the two men and raised his hand, in the similar way that a child would do when hesitant about asking a question in class. "Here's a kooky suggestion but… Why can't you both work together? Both shifts want this case; both are close to the victims…" Grissom, Brass noticed, visibly cringed upon his calling Sara a victim. And when the Detective turned to Ecklie, he saw he did the same but in his mentioning of Lucy Turner – Brass continued on. "And both want to see justice done," he finished.

Both teams watched their supervisors intently as they eyed each other, _kinda like two wolves from separate packs that have just treaded on the same stretch of unclaimed land, _Brass mused.

"We'd have to share everything…evidence, results, resources," Ecklie announced uncertainly.

Grissom nodded curtly. He quickly weighed through the options, assessed the situation and drew up his conclusions. "We're both professionals, Conrad, both trying to obtain the same goal." Catherine, Nick and Warrick both saw their bosses' familiar thoughtful expression appear on his face. "We would have to share leadership…speak to each other before making a move," There was no love lost between the two men, and everyone in the room knew it. At first he would, like Nick and Warrick earlier that day, have been okay with Ecklie taking over the case, but now Sara was also in trouble – she could suffer the same fate as Lucy Turner. "I agree with Jim," he finally admitted.

Eyebrows rose all through the room. "And so do I," Ecklie quickly agreed. Well he wasn't going to disagree and have Grissom looking like the good guy now.

"Nick I want you to get that note back to the Lab, check for prints then find Dr. Rambar and see if he can get anything from the writing." Stokes stood and nodded, the note had already been bagged and he held it now, in his gloved hand. "This is high priority, everything else gets pushed to the sidelines until this is done," Grissom added firmly.

They had a six-day deadline.

"Consider it done." At Ecklie's cough he paused _don't say he's gonna cause trouble already _Nick sighed inwardly.

Ecklie turned away from them and spoke to one of his team. Tim Rhodes looked around thirty eight years of age, and stood at 5"6'. He was quite tanned – working the dayshift would do that to a person, and his straight black hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. As his boss gave him his orders his dark blue eyes scanned the living room, and the faces of the people he would be working alongside.

Once Ecklie was finished, Tim walked to the door and stopped before shooting back at Nick. "Looks like we're working together Stokes." His face was grim and the younger man wasn't sure if it was due to the face that they had to work together, or because he was upset about Lucy's death – _probably both_ Nick decided. He followed Tim out of the house, looking around outside as he walked to the dayshifts car, hoping to spot something, anything that could help. He came up with nothing and dejectedly got into the passenger seat of Rhodes' car.

* * *

"Are you going to kill me?"

M_ight as well find out where we stand _was Sara's thought when regained consciousness. Her head was throbbing; a dull pain like a migraine magnified ten fold, on the side of her left temple. Her hands were bound behind her back, as were her ankles, she was not blindfolded as she imagined she would have been nor was there anything to stop her from calling out. Sara suspected that was because there was nobody within hearing range. She was sat upon a purple velvet couch that could seat three people, and there was no carpet but varnished hardwood floors. No wallpaper but the room was painted a pale lilac with a white border all around. To the left there was a fireplace but it was unlit due to the warm temperature outside; a small window was open allowing a refreshing breeze in, and blowing the patterned net curtains over the few ornaments on the sill. Opposite the couch there was another, identical to the one that Sara was sat in but for the small difference that the other would seat two people.

A deep voice answered her question, and he sounded – friendly. It was surprising enough that her prison wasn't a basement, or some dirty shed or hole in the ground but Sara wasn't prepared for the supposedly kind, warm tone of her kidnapper. "I would never kill anybody…I'm going to release you from your bonds, okay darling? But you must promise me that you won't run this time or I won't be accountable for my actions."

_This time?_ _Darling? _Sara held out her bound arms. Okay," she agreed, though was plainly still suspicious. "Where are my friends?" Were they around here too? Hidden away in one of the other rooms? "Grissom!" she shouted as loud as she could with her dry throat. "Nick…Warrick…Catherine!"

She didn't notice her kidnapper wince at her cries. "Please!" He almost sounded as though he were begging. "There is nobody here…who are these people that you speak of? Darling you must stop. Rest awhile and I will be back later," he left the room and Sara sank back into the couch, her legs pulled up against her chest protectively. She resumed her scan of the room and after a couple of minutes her eyes fell upon the pictures on the mantelpiece. Her kidnapper was there with a very familiar woman that was in all of the pictures, taken at places around Las Vegas. They looked as though they were husband and wife – arms around each other, smiling and holding hands.

The woman was Lucy Turner.

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

**Missing Link**

Chapter Two

* * *

Sara stared at the photograph for a few minutes, unmoving from where she was stood. Reaching out with her bound hands, the CSI took down the photograph and ran a finger over the frame. The engravings in the image were of intricate vines running all around the light wood. The man was happy; that Sara was certain off. His smile was wide and eyes danced with happiness.

It was the woman that took her attention though. It was without a doubt the recently deceased Lucy. Sara hadn't recognised her at first but on closer inspection was certain of the photographed women's identity. Where the man that was holding her was happy, Lucy wasn't. It **looked** as though she was having a good time when the photograph was taken -- her grin rivaled the man's. But there was something else; in her eyes. They were empty and devoid of life and as Sara looked closer she realised the happy expression was forced.

Sara sighed heavily, and closed her eyes before putting the picture back in its place. Was this her fate too? To be kept in this house by a man who thought she was… What? His girlfriend? His wife…until he decided to kill her? She knew the case, and she had six days live. _No…_ Sara corrected her thoughts _I have six days to find a way out of this mess, to save myself. _She walked back to the sofa and sat in the corner, holding the pillow in front of her like a protective barrier. All was quiet in the house and with nothing to do but wait her eyelids began to droop until she fell into a light sleep.

Simon West stood over the sink; the hot and cold water gushed and collected inside the unwashed mugs and dishes before tipping over the sides like a fountain and filling the sink. Sun glared through the window to make his eyes water and after a few minutes, he closed the curtains, yawning tiredly. It had been a rough few weeks for him, confusing and busy, full of action. He stopped the water and poured in washing up liquid; swirling it around with a sponge and watching in an almost trance like state as white fluffy bubbles formed and popped. He stopped his pointless actions and listened carefully for any sign of movement in the next room but heard none and a smile appeared on his tanned face, his wife got strange sometimes, forgot where she was and even whom he was.

He laughed at that, how she could ever forget who her husband was, was beyond him. His darling Jenna got confused -- mixed up, and he swore to help her in anyway he could. He rinsed out a floral patterned cup and blinked a few times, coming out of his thoughts and remembering what he was doing. He set the cup on the draining board and watched as drops of water ran down the sides of the cup in streaks. Shaking his head he finished the remainder of the plates and the one other cup before setting the kettle on boil and making a cup of coffee. While he waited he made a cheese sandwich and put it on a tray, poured the water into the coffee – black, one sugar and placed that on the tray also.

"Sweetheart I made you a snack," he called from in the kitchen as he walked along the corridor and turned left into the living room.

Setting the tray down on the table in front of the sofa, he sat on the edge, and took hold of the woman's hand, rubbing his thumb over her fingers to wake her up. "Come on, you have to eat something," his brow fixed into a frown. "Mow if you're going to be good I'll free your hands," Simon said as though he were speaking to a child.

Sara stirred on the sofa, her eyes opening into slits. Seeing Simon she pulled her hand away and pushed back on the couch. "I'm not hungry," she eyed the food suspiciously until her gaze travelled back to her kidnapper. He looked around forty years old; his hair cut was almost army short and grey, his eyes green. At a glance he was quite tall and lanky.

The man cocked his head to one side and tutted; his eyes looked almost comforting, understanding even. "Jenna, you're having one of your episodes again. Remember? It's Simon," he said as though he were trying to make her remember something that she should know.

It was a dangerous game that Sara was about to play. But the way she saw it she didn't really have any choice, he thought that she was this woman called Jenna, someone that he supposedly trusted. In pretending to be her, Sara saw a possible opening. "I can't…everything's hazy…I…I think…" the CSI feigned a confused look as she pretended to recall some memory.

She flinched as he brought his hand to her face and traced his thumb along her cheek, sympathy covering his face. "I know sweetie…it's hard but I promised I would always be there for you, to help you no matter what happens and that isn't going to change." He moved from sitting on the table to beside Sara on the couch. "Now, are you going to be a good girl and eat something?" He leant forward and picked up the plate then laid it on her lap, looking at her expectantly.

The CSI nodded mutely and took up one half of the sandwich and took a small bite, she was a little hungry, she admitted to herself as she chewed the food. Simon smiled and stood up and walked from the room, calling over his shoulder that he would be right back. He was as good as his word and no more than two minutes later came back into the room just as Sara finished part of the sandwich.

He was carrying scissors as he came toward her and he held them out, a smile still on his face. "Time to cut your bonds," he sat back at his previous place on the edge of the centre table and Sara looked visibly relieved. He pulled away the duct tape and rolled it into a ball. "All better," He patted her knee and she resisted the urge to pull away again. Right now she was supposed to be acting like a loving, and evidently pretty forgetful, wife.

Sara picked up the second half of the sandwich but made no move to eat anymore and instead regarded Simon. He was watching her, still smiling. That was starting to annoy her. He picked up the cup of coffee and held it out to her but she didn't take it and instead stood up with the plate and moved back over to the picture. "Who is she?" she asked innocently, wondering what he would say when the women in the photo was also supposed to be his wife.

The man rose and for the first time a sad expression appeared on his face and a haunted look flashed across his eyes. "Don't you remember?" It was clear she didn't know or she wouldn't have asked but Sara shook her head in answer anyway and Simon continued speaking as he walked towards her. The kidnapper came to a stop at her side. "An ex-wife, her name was Lucy…but she died not long ago," he coughed uncomfortably. "Please don't ask about her again sweetie." He slipped his arm around her waist and hugged her before withdrawing. "I have to get some things from the market." She stiffened as he pushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, "Get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us." And with that he left the room.

Sara shivered; a long day doing what?

* * *

"I can't believe this!" Nick's face was grim and he looked annoyed. He turned to the other CSI that he had to work with for this case, they were supposed to tell each other any results they found but it was pretty obvious that it didn't look good. "No prints, son of a bitch must've worn gloves," he resisted the incredible urge to crumple the piece of paper into a tiny ball and hurl it across the room, and out of sight.

Tim Rhodes, the dayshift CSI, had walked into the layout room a few minutes earlier but had chosen to stay silent while Nick worked. He held up a copy of the note that'd been made so that Dr. Rambar could examine the writing. "Doc noted irregularities in the writing. He said that at first glance he would've said a women wrote it." At that Nick looked interested, they hadn't contemplated a woman could have helped the killer. However Tim indicated that the nightshift CSI should let him continue. "But upon closer inspection he said that in parts of the writing it looked, for lack of a better word, forced. As though whoever wrote it was trying to change their writing. Parts of the note were definitely written by a male, educated he said." He put the copy next to the original. "And right handed. Not that that narrows down the field any."

The Texan's frustrated looked reappeared. "It doesn't help us much at all, a fingerprint is what we need. Hell even a partial would've been something," he let out a breath, calming down; it would not do anybody any good to start getting annoyed and shouting the place down. It certainly wouldn't help Sara. "I'll call Griss, tell him…tell him we tried," he knew that phoning Grissom so soon might get his hopes up but that's what he'd been told to do, call in with **any** information.

* * *

Grissom was still at the crime scene; he didn't want to move from there, it was his last connection Sara; and he wasn't going to leave until he found **something** that could help them find her. Unfortunately, despite his perseverance, nothing had been found.

Warrick and a dayshift CSI named Pete Conner had, minutes earlier, started the drive back to the Lab to catch up with Al on Lucy Turner's autopsy. Ecklie had chosen to stay at the crime scene and his persistent, non-stop walking was starting to annoy the heck out of the nightshift supervisor. He bit back shouting at the other man, it would only cause problems if they began a shouting match. Usually the silence helped him to think but at this moment in time he would have been glad of the sound of money dropping in a casino or the sounds of the Strip, even Greg's loud music would have been a welcome interruption.

Anything to tear him from his depressing thoughts.

Instead the sound of his cell ringing shook him out of his silent musings. Looking at the caller ID he saw that it was Nick and answered immediately. "What do you have?" Grissom asked anxiously, aware that Ecklie has stopped and was now watching him and listening in on the conversation; or at least his half of it. As Nick told him their few findings Grissom's shoulders slumped and his voice was quiet when he eventually answered, "Just tell me if you find anything else." He switched off the phone and turned around, seeing Ecklie's enquiring stare he shrugged his shoulders. "They'll keep looking."

"That's it?" the dayshift supervisor responded. He almost sounded as if he expected Grissom to suddenly draw out some amazing evidence that could help everyone.

He feverently wished that he could.

Grissom once again refrained from shouting. He was doing a pretty good job. "What else do you expect? We have both nightshift and dayshift on this case and with our combined efforts – I hope we'll find something here…" he waved a hand across the room.

"You hope?" It wasn't like he was trying to goad Grissom into an argument; Ecklie just felt the need to say something smug.

Ecklie was dutifully ignored as his rival exited the room, out of the same door that Sara's necklace had been found near. The door had been dusted for prints but none had been found; it was old and barely used. The crowd of neighbors had retired indoors again and instead people from the media were hanging around. Unwillingly, Grissom thought back on around half an hour ago when he'd been looking for evidence. He had been about to ask Sara to hand him a swab when he remembered it was **her** kidnapping that they were investigating. Behind the mask he kept firmly in place, inside he was trying to deal with his rage, the building panic his depressing thoughts of failure brought. The regret… he had to stay determined. That they would not succeed was completely unacceptable.

He'd walked out of the room, hands balled into fists. He ignored a question that Catherine had asked him, about who should return to the lab with the body.

Grissom leant against the outside wall, sighing and running a hand through his hair. Though he tried to ignore it, there was a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. S_ix days _he thought. _We have six days to find you and bring you home Sara, before I lose you forever. It isn't enough time. With the lack of evidence we may never get you back._ He tried again to detach himself from the situation, to treat this like any other crime scene but it was impossible. He could barely bring himself to speak of Sara as the victim of a kidnapping. To think of her becoming the victim in a murder…

Grissom closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall. "Where are you Sara?" he whispered. _Why am I always too late?_

It was Brass that interrupted his grim thoughts. The Detective waited by the door, half inside and half outside on the pebble path. "I'm taking it from your look that nothing good was found from the note."

Griss nodded and looked up slightly so that he was almost facing the police captain.

"We have nothing," Gil muttered, half musing. "How am I supposed to follow the evidence when it doesn't take me anywhere?" It was a rhetorical question and Brass chose not to answer anyway. Instead he replied with something that Grissom thought was completely irrelevant to what they were talking about.

A tiny smile was on Brass' face and he chuckled softly, causing his friend to look up at him; half annoyed and half curious. He waited impatiently for Jim to continue, wondering if the sudden silence was for dramatic effect. Grissom was not amused. "I got cornered outside by some reporter that wanted to know what else went down here that's got so many people rushing around…" he paused. The nightshift supervisor sighed and wordlessly motioned for him to carry on, Jim obliged. "He asked if, and I quote, 'the whole kidnapping and killing after a week drama has anything to do with what happened in Chicago three weeks ago'."

Grissom's eyebrow rose and he pushed back from the wall and faced Brass.

"That was my reaction. I put in a call and found out that Hazel Winter, a CSI down there was kidnapped and later found dead in the same manner as Lucy Turner," Jim explained.

"This person is after CSI's," It wasn't evidence but it was a start. "I never thought I'd be grateful for a reporter hanging around a crime scene," Grissom replied, a small barely visible smile tugged at his mouth as he walked past Brass and into the house; the captain following quietly behind him, appearing quite pleased.

* * *


	4. Chapter Three

**Missing Link**

Chapter three

* * *

Simon leant against the doorframe and peered into the bedroom. He had been standing there for the last ten or so minutes and the prone figure of the CSI in the bed hadn't moved yet. He doubted she would stir for another hour, Sara had become angry earlier and he'd had to give her a sedative to stop her from attempting to leave. To him she had been having another of her 'episodes' so he wasn't too worried; she always came back around to his way of thinking.

He rubbed his temples; a headache was starting again so after staying, watching, for a few more minutes he left and walked along the corridor to the bathroom, where all his medicine was kept. Coming to a stop in front of the mirror he viewed his reflection, cringing at the sight of the bags under his eyes, which were red themselves. He needed to sleep. But at the same time, Simon knew that he couldn't trust that Jenna wouldn't try and run out again. He sighed deeply and ran the cold water, waiting until it felt icy to the touch before he splashed his face and the back of his neck, deciding that he would drink more coffee. He could sleep tomorrow.

Sara awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open and darting around the unfamiliar room. She fought back a wave of panic, and reminded herself that she had to remain calm. Panicking, however bleak things seemed to be, would not help matters in the slightest. It didn't stop her hands from shaking though as she pushed her brown hair behind her ear and slowly, hesitantly sat up in the bed. She theorized that he must have carried her in here after the sedative had taken effect. She vaguely remembered stumbling to the door when he had grabbed her from behind and had felt the prick of a needle at the top of her arm and then everything had gone black.

The young CSI rubbed her eyes and opened them wider as her vision become a lot clearer and she debated getting out of bed and trying to escape again. For now, she pushed that thought out of her mind. She didn't know just how far she could push him. She wanted to test his limits -- not make him snap.

As if he had been lurking just around the corner all along, Simon appeared at the door. His bright smile was there as though it had never left; and he held a tray, upon which sat a bowl of cereal, milk and a bowl of fruit. Sara turned away from him and looked out of the barred window, realizing it was day. He was bringing her breakfast, she was glad about that, as she was pretty hungry. He sat down on the bed and looked upon her with unnerving adoration, "I brought you something else to eat. That little snack earlier wasn't enough," he said, as though she hadn't seen the food.

As before, she forced a smile. "Thanks, I am really hungry." This comment seemed to make him happier, and if it was possible the grin grew wider.

Cooperation made him happy.

Simon put the tray down beside her and stood up again before making his way back to the door. "We're going out today sweetie," Simon announced. "It'll be a lot of fun," And with that he left the room.

* * *

Nightshift and Dayshift were gathered in the break room. None of them had slept and if someone had dared to tell any of the almost cranky CSI's to take off home and continue in a few hours time, a battle would have begun. All the Crime Lab felt the tension whenever any of them walked by and word had gone out to stay on their good sides or risk facing their wrath. Even Greg had been unusually quiet and no loud music was heard; drinking bad coffee had only served to irritate them further and so the Lab Tech's Hawaiian Blue was in the break room for the CSI's to drink.

Some were sat around the table while others remained standing, leaning against the side counters or gathered by the door; drinking and eating snacks while they talked about the case. As they didn't have all that much to go on yet, it was a short conversation. The CSI's were waiting for word from the Chicago Crime Lab, the information on Hazel Winter that might possibly help them with the case in Vegas.

Brass, armed with a cup of steaming hot coffee, entered the break room. Everyone turned away from their food, drinks and each other, to look expectantly at him. "Those guys really know how to talk…" Jim began. "I didn't think I'd ever get a word in. After spending 15 minutes waiting on the line for someone to talk to me, the guy I finally get takes all the time in the world to get to the point."

Grissom set his coffee and sandwich down on the table, which was already filled with empty and half full packets of everything the vending machine had to offer. There was a long and drawn out sigh, evidence enough of how low his tolerance for waiting around was becoming. "Which is precisely what you're doing now Jim," Gil pointed out. "just tell us what you found out and stop prolonging this," he tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone as he spoke but it was hard after waiting for what seemed like days, but in actuality was twelve or so hours, not being able to do anything that could help forward the investigation.

The captain held up his hand to silence Gil and anyone else that was contemplating interrupting him. "Okay, he told me all he could remember without having the case file in front of him -- though that'll be faxed over ASAP. Hazel Winter, like our girls, was a CSI. She went missing a little over a month ago from her home. When she didn't come into work and wasn't picking up her phone or answering her pages, a friend went over and checked up on her. There was evidence of a scuffle, Miss Winter fought back but still nothing was found that could help the CSI's down there find her attacker but…" he paused as if for dramatic effect.

"When her body was found, as with Lucy at her home, the scene of the original crime, they found skin under her fingernails where she had scratched the perp. Unfortunately they didn't find a match but a neighbour did see him enter the house an hour before Hazel, she assumed he was a boyfriend and didn't think anything of it until she saw the police a few hours later." He waited again, expecting questions. He watched each of them and to an outsider it almost looked like he was a teacher waiting to answers his classes' questions.

It was Warrick that asked the first. "Well, don't keep us in suspense, did she get a good look at him or not?"

"The neighbour gave a description but she could have been describing thousands of people, four of which lived in the neighbourhood." As if anticipating the next question he added. "And they were checked out, when they heard what had happened they helped out all they could. She got a look at the car too, a light green VW Beetle…" Brass trailed off.

Catherine eyed him for a minute, his abrupt silence becoming slightly disconcerting. "What aren't you telling us?"

"With Miss. Winter he broke his pattern. He kept her for **three** days before killing her. The autopsy report is being faxed over with the rest of the files…from what it sounds like, she could be a bit of a spitfire. Could be that she was too hot to handle and he couldn't keep her around for the usual length of time." Brass finished, unless they got the Chicago report, there was nothing more to be said.

Ecklie eventually broke the silence, and he voiced what all others in the room was thinking but didn't want to say. "So we may not have a week after all. I don't know Sara Sidle like the rest of you people," he said, obviously meaning nightshift. "But from what I do know she isn't the type to just sit back and wait, she'd have heard the reports; she knows how much time she has left. You know as well as I do that if the opportunity to escape arises, she'll take it."

The team shifted around uncomfortably, frowning; processing what the dayshift supervisor had said. The worse thing was -- they could not disagree with him. "Maybe you're right Conrad, and you're definitely right when you say you don't know her like we do." Grissom nodded toward Warrick, Nick and Catherine. "And saying that, she's smart, Sara won't run the risk of trying to escape unless she is positive that she won't be caught." Judging from his firm and steady voice, it sounded like he believed his own words. But there was that niggling doubt at the back of his mind that made the Entomologist question his own words.

If time began to run out, or she believed that the man that took her would snap sooner than they anticipated, she **would** take a chance.

For the umpteenth time the now all too familiar feeling of dread filled him. He was positive the others had felt it too. Grissom was supposed to lead them and they followed his example, so how could he tell them to get on with their work and act as though this was just another crime, with a victim that none of them had ties too, when he couldn't do that himself? Looking at Grissom then, it looked as though he wasn't wrapped up in what was going on. That he wasn't feeling like crap. Anyone who truly believed that wasn't looking close enough.

And he was surrounded by people that were trained to pay attention. Grissom could not fool them anymore than he could fool himself.

* * *

_She stopped running, her breath came in short bursts and her throat was so dry she felt the need to cough. But to quiet herself, the CSI put her hand over her mouth. Simon couldn't see her either, but then neither could anyone that could possibly help her. They had exited the diner and a group of kids had bumped into them. Seizing what may have been her only chance, she had run the second he had released his hold on her._

_The CSI could hear him now, his feet shuffling along the street, splashing a small puddle. She wanted to curl up into a little ball, make herself as small as possible but that would have meant moving, and moving meant making a noise and the space that she was currently hiding in was too small to shift around in without eliciting some sound. The walking stopped and she risked peeping out from behind the wall. The street was clear and she finally allowed herself to breath again. Stepping out extremely cautiously she still saw no one. She turned around in the opposite direction to the one she had come in, not wanting to chance him hiding around another corner, waiting to leap out at her. _

_She kicked off the high-heeled shoes he had told her to wear and took off, once again, at a run. Tiny pebbles dug into her bare feet as she sprinted down the empty street. They had set out earlier, in the afternoon but now it was dark; not even the moon lit the way and cloud cover blocked any light. It was starting to rain lightly now too, and it only served to make her colder. The thin dress she wore provided no warmth._

_It wasn't tiredness or a dead end that stopped her -- but the hand that shot out from behind a bin that grabbed her arm. Simon had been there all along. His arms wrapped around her and she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck as he spoke, always softly. She shivered involuntarily. _

_He sounded heartbroken as he asked, "why?" _

_She couldn't answer even if she tried as his hand was clamped over her mouth. The CSI struggled ferociously. There was no way she was going without a fight. If this was her fate, to die in an alley, then she was going to make sure she got something of him._

_She bit down on his hand as hard as she could, which wasn't that much, but enough for him to loosen his hold on her. The brunette slipped out of his arms and made to bolt but he was still gripping her right wrist. In defiance, she swung her left arm at his face as he produced the gun. Absently she wondered if it the one he used to kill the others. The CSI wouldn't find the answer, and it wouldn't help her anyway._

_She stared at him coldly; the fear that she felt wasn't showing on her face -- even as he placed the gun against her right temple. She closed her eyes and opened them into slits as she saw Simon back away, clutching at his head as if in pain. _

"_No, this isn't right! I'm not supposed to do this… But they have to pay! They have to know what I felt…" As he spoke to himself she began to quietly back away._

_She didn't get far. He glared at her suddenly with steely resolve. And then pulled the trigger. The gunshot exploded. Breaking the silence of the night. And she crumpled to the ground.

* * *

_


	5. Authors Note

**Authors Note**

I haven't forgotten about this fic, honestly! I'm so surprised that people have continued to review this after so long a time has passed since the last update. Thank you for all the interest and taking time to review. I will update again. Soon!


End file.
